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In the middle of a Cape Cod vacation, I drove into Boston for a research field trip. An analyst was taking a group of investors to see a company whose business I wanted to understand better, and I'd signed up weeks before. I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
It wasn't entirely a busman's holiday, though. A few hours in the car by myself with Bob Marley blaring can be a beautiful thing. And in any case, there was a bonus - the MIT bookstore was right around the corner, where, as fate would have it, the first book I laid eyes on was Fried: Why You Burn Out and How To Revive. I silently gave thanks to the universe for the memo and promptly bought the book.
The good news was that according to the book, I wasn't fried yet. The bad news was that I soon would be if I didn't start taking my vacation seriously.
So I did. I read a lot of chick lit. I developed a Netflix hangover from watching old episodes of White Collar. I refereed sibling fights, shopped for shoes and chocolate, and went hunting for mushrooms.
But mostly I just watched the world go by on long walks by the sea. Which meant I got to see a lot of creatures get eaten by other creatures. Let me tell you, it's a brutal world out there.
Watching all this predatory action reminded me of how I get when I'm stalking a new idea. My immediate ancestors may have been pig farmers, nonetheless, I get overcome with a hunter's blood lust when I think I've got a fat stock idea in my sights.
And if my prey gets away, I get frustrated in a most unladylike way. Howling has been known to happen, because watching a stock go up a lot that you don't own but did work on is highly irritating.
In any case, as a kindred spirit to the predators, I watched their pursuit of prey on the beach very carefully, hoping to glean a few investment insights along the way. One walk in particular was memorable for the multitude of lessons taught:
Lesson number one: Pick the optimal time to go hunting
At the inlet to Nauset Harbor, as the tide was receding fast, I watched a flock of terns go fishing in the shallows. They whirled and dived, sleek and speedy. It was hard work, as the birds came up empty time and again. But every once in a while a tern would go shooting off towards the nesting grounds, a thin ribbon of silver dangling from its beak.
The terns went to work when conditions were ripe and the chances of success were high. Catching a three-inch fish by dive bombing from five feet above is hard enough; best to attack when there are a lot of fish, all forced to swim close to the surface.
Similarly, it's much better to go hunting for ideas when there's a lot of turmoil flushing values within reach - when markets are receding, or during earnings season, when all companies must surface their earnings results. That's the time to be in all-out hunting mode, circling above the waters, hoping to scoop up good ideas in the most efficient way possible.
